


Best Served Cold

by The_White_Rabbit42



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional tags to be added with final chapter, Drabble, Explicit for future smut, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Three part drabble series, fear kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 12:51:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20546453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_White_Rabbit42/pseuds/The_White_Rabbit42
Summary: The devil's revenge can't be anything pleasant... or can it?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2019 Ficfacers auction. 
> 
> On tumblr as Thewhiterabbit42.

You never expected him to be there. You should have noticed the signs. The random flickering of the lights as you walked through the library. The eerie edge hidden within the silence. The not quite so vacuous absence an empty bunker often brought. 

By the time you realize you aren’t alone, it’s too late. 

“Well, well, well, what do we have here.” The hair on your arms stand on end, the space around you filling with an alarmingly familiar, chill-kissed presence. “You’re not what I expected. Where’s the Hardy Boys?”

_ Gone _ , along with Jack and Mary, and the realization of how alone you are hits as hard and fast as your fear. 

“It’s not polite to keep your back to guests.” 

Your knees wobble, steps a heavy shuffle as you manage to turn yourself around. Your system hits a fever pitch as you finally lay eyes on Lucifer, and there’s a heady rush as his presence fully sweeps over you, his head giving a curious tilt as he drinks you in. 

"I remember you," he purrs, a disarming smile stretching across his face. "You're the littlest member of the pack.”

You assume he means newest, but you certainly feel small in comparison to the raw power tingling across the large gap between you, along with the overwhelming rush of adrenaline, nerves, and  _ something  _ in response to him. 

“What on  _ earth _ are they doing, leaving a little morsel like you all alone down here?” 

Your heart skips a beat beneath his unwavering stare, then several more at the forked tongue that darts out, wetting his bottom lip in a wholly  _ un _ wholesome way before his teeth languidly rake across it. You’re not certain what kind of hunger he was staring at you with, a thought that equally terrifies you  _ and  _ sends an inexplicable surge much lower in your body than you expect. 

You don’t know what to do with it.  _ Any  _ of it. You. Him. The fact you  _ know  _ nothing good can come from a visit from the devil. 

_ Distraction _ . It’s the first fully formed thought your mind can manage as it attempts to swim through the haze of instincts drowning out your logic.

You swallow down some of the dryness in your throat. “They’re looking for you.”

He smirks, eyes glinting deviously. “Oh, I know.” 

He  _ knows _ . 

His posture suddenly shifts from that suffocating confidence to casual. “So, y/n, can I call you y/n?” He leans against a nearby bookshelf, fingers drifting thoughtfully beneath his chin. “Which of those losers are you…”

He trails off, and it takes a moment for the implication to sink in. As soon as it does, heat rises along your cheeks, or maybe it’s the way his gaze continues to pin you in place, because despite how low-key he’s trying to be, there’s no restraining that infinite piece of him. It burns along the darks of his eyes, and while it may  _ look  _ like ice, it speaks of something far more searing and intense. 

He flashes a knowing grin _ , _ just before breaking eye contact with you. 

"Is it Sammy boy?" His demeanor suddenly changes as he idly inspects his fingernails, like the entire conversation is beneath him despite the fact  _ he's  _ the one driving it. "I almost couldn't blame you. Tall drink of water, that one. Am I right?" He flashes you a chummy smile, but there's no mistaking the wolfish curl his lips take on after a moment. 

You shake your head. It's all you can do.

"No?" His brows shoot up. "Man. I mean, Dean's a looker, sure, if you can get through all that flannel." 

You shake your head again. You don't know why. You should just let him assume what he wants so he can be on his way, but you feel compelled to play whatever game he's started.

His affect flattens. "Oh, honey,  _ please _ don't tell me you're fucking my little brother." He shakes his head as if disappointed. "And here I thought you had better taste than that."

His remark renders you more speechless than if he had threatened to snap all your insides to the outside of you, and you’re unable to do anything but blink. 

"Doesn't matter," he says with the wave of his hand, pushing off from the book shelf. "All three of them took my son from me.” 

His eyes flick up to you, a predatory smile stretching from ear to ear. 

“Now I’m going to take something from them.”

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

You’re drowning in him, body pinned against dusty shelves by sheer presence alone, and the way he slinks closer sends shivers down your spine. 

He’s still several yards away, all cat-like grace and predatory intention, and every second that passes, every slow step he takes, overflows with anticipation. He moves like there isn’t a single being in existence who can challenge him, dominance pouring off him in waves that would put even  _ the  _ Alpha and Omega to shame. 

A rapacious smile has the lights stuttering, and when the darkness lifts he’s closed the distance between you by half. 

Your heart follows the unsteady cadence of the fluorescent bulbs above you, and you wish he would just strike. Snap you out of existence. Do  _ something _ , other than toy with you this way. 

Another blink and he’s right there, frost-kissed breath unfurling across your face. One more has his fingers wrapping around your throat, firm squeeze hindering your shallow breaths, but not cutting them off completely. 

He wants you to feel the raw power thrumming beneath his hand, to know how easy it would be for him to end you right then and there. You imagine he intends to relish the fear saturating your system, but it’s not the  _ only  _ thing tingling across your senses. 

There’s a frightening pull to him, an animal magnetism that sparks something on the most basic of levels, and it overwhelms you to the point you almost can’t feel the chill of his vessel as he cages you in place. 

“Well, how about  _ that _ ,” he drawls, the inner circle of ice melting as his gaze ignites in a burst of red grace, and the smirk splashing wicked across his features speaks of something other than  _ frigid  _ retribution. 

There’s a dampness gathering between your legs, and the devious chuckle rumbling through his throat does little to discourage it. 

“Have to say, I didn't peg  _ you _ as the type to have a fear kink..."

His grip around your throat relaxes, thumb easing over the edge of your chin to trace along your lower lip. There’s a heated sensuality beneath his touch, and that unrelenting primal undercurrent to it all has you unconsciously squeezing your thighs together.

He leans forward at an achingly slow pace, giving you plenty of time to react, deny him,  _ resist _ . 

There’s no point. He’s too strong for you to fight alone, and he’s aware of the treachery brewing within your body. 

For a moment, you think he might actually kiss you. The thought is like a livewire arcing through your system. 

It’s immediately replaced by an aching disappointment as he turns his head at the last second, nose pressing into the bare skin along your collar. He inhales,  _ deeply _ , before tracing the tip along your jaw. 

He breathes heavily against the shell of your ear, mouth grazing it as he speaks. “Or maybe someone just likes to play with dangerous things.” 

He tests the waters, hand searing through your jeans as he palms the side of your hip. You make the smallest of noises as his thumb slips beneath the hem of your shirt, stroking the sensitive skin along your waistband. 

“I know you’ve been told the devil’s supposed to be bad,” he purrs, “but I promise, I can also be real, real  _ good _ .” 

You gasp as his tongue snakes out, forked tip hitting both the outer shell and just inside your ear. Goosebumps cascade down the length of you, and you grip the shelf behind you to keep your knees from wobbling. 

“What do you say, y/n? Would you like to play a game with me?”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond, his tongue salacious along your pulse as he helps himself to a taste. 

Any sense you might have left becomes scrambled by the icy electricity that seems to jolt through you with his touch, and all you can do is obey when he nudges your head aside, allowing him better access to your neck. You whimper as his lips latch on to you, sucking just enough to bring your blood to the surface before lavishing the spot with his tongue. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praises. 

He turns your face back towards him, fingers lightly indenting your cheeks as his eyes bear straight into yours. There’s a hunger that whispers within the darks of his eyes, and the way he bites his lip as his stare slides down the front of you suggests he could devour you whole at any moment. 

  
“We are going to have  _ so  _ much fun together,” he promises, a wolfish grin spreading across his features. 


End file.
